A large anthology of sci.., p.999
A Large Anthology of Science Fiction, page 999
The other method was to extract from cloud whale blood.
Cloud whales were a miraculous species, confounding and fascinating humans since their discovery. Nearly a century later, they still enticed biologists—Frond among them—to visit Goliath in droves.
Cloud whales were born in the seas of the distant planet Xorchin. Once a year, during a large moon’s closest approach, Xorchin’s gravitational pull was counteracted, and cloud whales rose from the sea en masse, and entered interplanetary space. They migrated along the Golden Shipping Belt, by way of seven different stars, relying on vast, solar wind-catching membranes for acceleration. They had to elude vacuum dragons, which could appear as suddenly as gods, and vanish like ghosts. The lucky few that reached Goliath’s Golden Sea lost their solar sail membranes. They became true cloud whales, able to absorb F937 into their blood. This allowed them to break free of gravitational fetters, to cruise horizons, dwell among winds, and sleep among clouds.
It also meant that F937 was a million times more concentrated in their blood than in seawater. This fact was bringing about cloud whale extinction. Whalers, armed to the teeth, were hunting and killing the creatures, using high-power pumps to exsanguinate them. In less than a century, Goliath’s cloud whales had been brought to the verge of non-existence. Fortunately, the Union had entered them on a list of protected species, and issued a hunting ban. The only sanctioned contact was for research.
The whales’ situation improved, but a lot of poaching still happened.
Obviously, I was on an illegal poaching vessel, a whaling ship. And now it was transporting cloud whale blood to the black market. Passengers like myself were taken on in passing, as a supplementary source of income.
Judging by the volume of blood in this ship, at least ten more cloud whales were now mummified corpses.
I brooded on this. The whale-song from the previous night seemed to echo in my ear, mournful and ghostly. I hugged Frond tightly, shrinking further into my corner of the hold.
This movement saved my life.
A devastating impact rocked the ship, and my side of it caved inward, braining the man who’d been sleeping next to me. A flower of blood blossomed from his head.
If I hadn’t withdrawn the moment before, that might’ve been me.
The collision sent our whaling ship rolling violently through the sky. Blood barrels crashed about the hold, spilling their gore, immediately crushing two passengers to death. A barrel smashed my left leg. The crack of the bone was sickeningly audible amid the general clamor. I clung fiercely to a railing as we continued to roll and fall. Luckily, Bright Pate had reacted quickly. He was already bent over his console, initiating an equilibrium-restoring maneuver.
The numerous braking engines on both sides of the ship fired up, counteracting the roll. Blasting at full power and working together, they managed to cancel out the motion imparted by the collision.
Three seconds later, the ship stabilized.
“Dammit!” Bright Pate roared, face blood-spattered. “It’s been following us all along!”
No one answered him.
He trembled, reclining in his seat. A broken control lever was buried in his abdomen, and he’d suffered another wound, this one probably mortal: a hideous crater in his right temple that resembled a new eye.
The second attack followed hard upon the first. This time Bright Pate was ready. The ship dove, and a vast shadow rushed past.
Through a shattered porthole, I spotted a wrathful-looking cloud whale.
I had never associated rage with these animals. According to research, cloud whales were docile, fleeing in the face of massacre, moaning sad laments as they were exsanguinated. They’d been friendly toward humans at first, but after sufficient bloodshed, they had learned wariness. This was the first I knew of a cloud whale attacking humans.
I found it difficult to breathe, felt confined and trapped. I focused on recovering the urn. Luckily it had not been damaged. Next I put on my breather mask. The cloud whale had already gotten well past us, its massive tail flukes pumping. It climbed in a steep arc and came about for a calamitous attack dive.
Bright Pate yelled again for One-Eye, but still there was no reply. He turned around to survey the disorder of the hold, the broken metal barrels, the floor awash in cloud whale blood. I was the only surviving passenger, but Bright Pate’s gaze didn’t linger on me. I was just another corpse to him.
I saw in his eyes the glint of some wild, dangerous resolve. Blood pouring from his head, he roared, “You want to kill us all? Bring it on!” He leaned on the accelerator. The ship trembled, groaned, lurched upward ferociously.
Ghost class ships aren’t big. Their strengths are maneuverability and acceleration. In three seconds we were a bullet screaming through the air. By then I’d thrown myself at the life-preserver module. I pressed a button. Foam cushioning enveloped me.
The fearless cloud whale, its massive body charged with golden blood, seemed ready to burst with the pressure of some inner sun. Its cavernous mouth gaped. The air around us shivered. Its massive flukes stirred whirlwinds as it dove. The ship was no larger than its head.
Frond had once told me that in the rare event a cloud whale grew violent, its eyes might shift from the usual white to a rarely-seen grey. But now, face to face with this furious behemoth, I saw that its eyes were a nightmarish black.
The ship and the whale clashed.
My life-preserver module hadn’t ejected yet. In my foam cocoon I felt earth and sky inverting, and then I was falling fast. Before I lost consciousness, my only thought was to hold Frond’s ashes tight to my chest.
I hugged her as tightly the day she left me. As if keeping her in my arms might link our souls, mingle our blood. Make her unable to leave.
But she maintained her composure, gently disengaged from my embrace, retreated a step. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “Remember to dress for the cold. If you’re hungry and tempted to order take-out, better to cook for yourself. Don’t stay at home all the time. Get out and meet new girls. Talk to them about the weather if you have to, or food, or art. Find one to take care of you.”
“I only want you.”
Perhaps my wretchedness moved her. “So . . . come with me.”
Before I could reply, a ship bound for KP90 in the Cygnus constellation rose into the sky, its massive engine rumbling. I recoiled from the spectacle of it.
Frond said, “Can you overcome your fear of flying? I’m bound for Goliath, and it’s very far away. And when I get there, I’ll spend more time in the sky than on the ground. You couldn’t adapt to that, could you?”
“Give me a little time,” I implored. “Half a year? If I can’t do it by then, you go alone. I’ll accept losing you.”
“I’ve already given you five years. You still shake every time you hear a ship engine. And that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with staying on Earth. Before the space age, people lived full lives here.”
“Then why can’t you . . .”
“I’ve told you,” she said, raising her head to stare through the famous transparent dome of London Port. Ships rose and descended like so many fireflies, some hurtling into the depths of the night sky. “My life is up there.”
Her eyes were full of the familiar yearning. To me, the night sky was unfathomable, but to her it was like precious, alluring jade. I knew I couldn’t keep her from going, but still felt compelled to make a final effort. Gripping her hand, I said, “The cosmos is dangerous. What if you run into trouble?”
“If that’s my fate, then so be it.” She gently pulled her hand from my grasp. She picked up her luggage and walked a few steps, then turned and met my dispirited gaze. Smiling, she said, “How about I give you a mission? If I die out there, bring my remains back to Earth.”
I didn’t reply, and she raised her eyebrows. “Don’t forget, okay?” She turned and headed for the departure gate, was swallowed in a tide of people.
I extended my hand. Starlight fell through the dome onto my fingers. I stood there, rigid and unmoving, for a long time. As if my outstretched hand could summon Frond back from the crowded gate for one more hug. But the crowd dispersed, and the starlight was bright enough to show me she was gone.
I opened my eyes. Tears were flowing down my cheeks and blurring my vision. My body ached all over. I arched my back and convulsively inhaled, and soon began to understand my situation.
The life-preserver module had landed in a barren wilderness. It was in pieces, but my foam cocoon had protected me from the impact’s force. Struggling to discern my surroundings, I made out a large hill not so far away. Night had fallen. I’d slept at least ten Goliath hours. My breather mask was still useable, but my GPS/beacon wasn’t working, and I was injured in at least a dozen places. The biggest problem was my broken left tibia. I spent a long time probing my body with a solicitous hand, but I found no mortal wounds.
And then I was panicking. I couldn’t find the urn. Frond was missing.
I crawled along, groping the hard, dark ground. Frond, how could I have lost you? How could I have failed to carry out your last request?
I felt earth and withered grass. Sharp rocks lacerated my hands, but I no longer felt pain. I searched, and my eyes gradually adjusted to the dark. Three blue eyes opened within a shadow before me, like three pilot lights suddenly ignited. I flinched back, flattened myself on the ground. The eyes illuminated a hairy, profoundly alien face. Inside the triangle formed by the eyes were two rings of sharp teeth. A rotten stench emanated from these blue-lit, fearsome mouthparts.
This beast’s scientific name was Pseudohallucigenia tresoculis, but it was commonly called triadacine. Difficult to pronounce, either way. If Frond had been with me, she could have helped with that, among other things. This irritable carnivore gripped its prey with that outer ring of teeth, then used the inner ring to chew for swallowing.
I couldn’t die here. I had to take Frond home.
I pushed myself up on both hands and began an awkward retreat. The triadacine followed me patiently. Those three eyes continued to glow blue, an otherworldly triangle floating through the dark. The beast was taking my measure, deciding whether I was worth its trouble. Its six legs, short but sturdy, generated a susurrating sound that made my skin crawl.
Soon my back was against the hillside I’d spotted earlier. I was trapped.
The triadacine’s six legs coiled. In their midst the large mouth opened wide and hissed. The beast was about to pounce. My trembling hand fell on a rock, but a powerful howl erupted behind me, like the mad roar of a hurricane in some deep abyss. The world shivered. My courage wavered, and I dropped the rock.
I turned. The hill wasn’t a hill after all, but a cloud whale—the very titan that had followed and destroyed the whaling ship.
Its cavernous maw opened, and a roar like carpet-bombing surged out of its black hole of an esophagus, shattering the night. The triadacine nimbly reversed without turning its head. It beat a hasty retreat, the sound of its whooshing locomotion soon vanishing into the night.
The whale’s roar had blasted me onto my back. I glimpsed something familiar in its mouth: the urn.
To the right of the beast’s corpulent tongue, Frond was lodged in a convolution of the cavernous mouth’s inner wall. Insensible to danger, I got up and lunged, but the mouth crashed shut. As if the world-shaking roar had spent the last of its energy, the giant ceased to move, resuming the attitude of a lifeless hill.
“Open up!” I said. Standing tiptoe, I could barely touch its lower jaw, which was covered with tumor-like growths, each as big as my head. I softly patted one, feeling its hollowness. The whale remained aloof, unmoving.
“Open up and give back Frond.” I threw rocks at the beast, to no avail. Then I was panting for breath, sitting in front of the massive creature, contemplating how ridiculous my actions had been. From the whale’s perspective, I’d probably seemed like an ant hurling dust motes. The beast couldn’t even be bothered to open its mouth and blow me away.
The sky was brightening when I woke. The first sun was already overhead, scorching, while in the east hung a smaller sun. Burning air flowed across my skin.
But hunger had awakened me, not heat.
I discovered the animal’s body was covered in frightful wounds. Blood had congealed in these, and some was still that peculiar, fierce gold color. According to Bright Pate, this animal had encountered the whaling ship before, tracked it for a thousand li, seeking a final apocalyptic clash. It might once have been powerful, but now it was barely hanging on. I put my ear to its body, listened carefully, heard a faint vibration from within: something like a pulse, or a tide.
It breathed weakly. No telling how much longer it might hold on. Last night it had used its last roar to save my life. Or had it? This beast hated humans, after all. Most likely it had been a coincidence. Just as the three-eyed brute attacked me, the whale happened to issue its final bellow, in defiance of looming death, and the pitch-black night, and the bitter world.
My hunger pangs were getting sharper. I climbed onto the whale’s back for a better view of my surroundings. I happened to be in a low-lying region, a basin gradually rising in all directions. Pieces of the whaling ship were scattered beyond.
I crawled out there and searched through the wreckage, by sheer luck found some condensed ration packs. After wolfing these down, I discovered a still-useable protective suit, and promptly put it on. Although Goliath’s atmosphere obstructed most cosmic rays, direct exposure to the four suns was still dangerous.
Now I felt somewhat restored. I found a shard of steel plating among the wreckage. The edge seemed usably sharp.
I limped back down into the basin. The sunlight was fierce, the rocky ground baking. The cloud whale’s white body scattered the suns’ rays.
“Big brother,” I said, “please don’t hate me for this.” I patted the beast’s lower jaw, hefted the steel shard. “Since you won’t give Frond back to me, you leave me no choice but to use a method neither of us will like.”
The cloud whale was silent, breathing intermittently. Judging by where I’d seen the urn lodged, the most direct route was just below the right eye.
I crawled onto the whale’s back. Its head looked like it had been clawed open by great iron claws, the pink subdermal tissue exposed, already festering with maggot-like larvae. Ramming a whaling ship had its price.
I sighed, carefully crawled to the right side of its head, and sat atop its right eyelid.
“My apologies. I know humanity has been cruel to your species. Bright Pate and One-Eye alone took three hundred barrels of blood, meaning a dozen or so cloud whales dead. Maybe you had kin among them. But I’ve never profited from your bodies, never bought or sold you, and never killed you. I am not your enemy.” Trembling, I lifted my steel weapon, the sharp edge gleaming in the sun. “I have to bring Frond home. Maybe you can’t understand love, but she made a final request of me. I must succeed. You can understand that, right?”
Even if it could, would it want to? It had witnessed a slaughter. It could only have hate for my species. Hadn’t I seen its eyes turn black?
No matter what it did or didn’t understand, this weapon of mine must descend and penetrate. Frond, I’m bringing you home.
The cloud whale opened its eyes. It didn’t have the strength to open them all the way, just a slit. But I saw their ash-grey color. They were no longer black. It seemed its rancor, along with its life, was draining away.
The trace of emotion in those eyes: I knew it well. After Frond had left me, it was the expression I saw every time I looked in a mirror.
Anguish, and bereavement.
The first day after she left, I didn’t feel anything had really changed—apart from the house being a bit emptier, the bed a bit larger. I worked at home, as before, using data projections and light-sensing gloves to design the electrical wiring and cockpits for ‘Gale Force’ ships. When it was time to go to sleep, I automatically moved to hug the right side of the bed. My hands fell on the empty sheet, and withdrew as if stung.
On the second day I got up late, and started gaming. I was a medieval assassin, endlessly killing, eating whatever was in the fridge when I got hungry. I threw out the stuff Frond had made, eating only frozen meals. I played through early morning the next day. Healthcare monitoring showed my body was fatigued, and I was forced offline.
On the third day I slept and dreamt a lot. The dreams were grotesque, gaudy, bizarre. Frond did not appear.
On the fourth day I opened a window. Sunlight assaulted my face. I had planned to go out for a walk, so I dressed, put on my shoes, and took the lift to the ground floor. But once I got down there I was shaking all over. I didn’t dare step out into the sunlight.
On the fifth day my friend decided enough was enough, and organized an outing, pulling me into the light of day. He’d arranged a date with a beautiful girl, one who was quite satisfied with my income level, and who shared my corny sense of humor. We had a cheerful conversation. Toward evening I walked her home, but before we reached her door, a shiver ran through me. My feet refused to carry me further. “What’s wrong?” she said, turning to face me, twirling a finger through her jet-black hair. I fled.
On the sixth day, I got on social media and removed Frond from my blacklist. I discovered she’d already changed her status from “in a relationship” to “single.” Her latest photos included one with her atop a peak, a cloud whale floating in the background. She was smiling in every picture.
On the seventh day I huddled in a corner of my balcony, among violets and magnolias, sobbing. When I looked in the mirror that night, I saw a shadow. The shadow’s eyes expressed the same loss and pain that the cloud whale’s would later.
